


Slow Hands

by Holkie



Series: Mordhaus [13]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holkie/pseuds/Holkie
Summary: This was sparked by the episode Bluesklok, where Skwisgaar could not play slow.  In later episodes he was shown to be able to.  So I figured out this was how he learned.





	Slow Hands

It bothered him. Ever since they'd come back from Mississippi. It  
bothered him there was something he failed at. Failed! He was Skwisgaar Skwigelf! He was a guitar god  
and there was nothing involved with a guitar that he failed at! But he had to admit it

 

He Could Not Play Slowly.

Mashed Potatoes Johnson had tried to teach him and Toki. But they both failed at it, even with cinder blocks tied to their arms. That was the only good with this, Toki failed at it, too.

But there was nothing he failed at. He didn't let on to the others, but he began  
to...practice. Not the same way he constantly played around the 'haus, his fingers speeding over the strings.

He dug out his old metronome. Not any of the gold plated, gem encrusted ones he had gotten as a member of Dethklok. His old one,his first. The one he had when he first learned to play guitar. It was wood and well worn, but it still kept the beat.

Tick..tock...tick...tock. As fast and as slow as he set it.

He first tried to set it as slow as it would go. But his fingers might start out slow, they still sped up as he played, without thinking about it. No matter how many times he tried. Even listening to the old albums. He sent Klokateers out to collect all the “grandpa's guitars” players they knew. The slower the better. He still sped up the music. It didn't sound bad, but it was

Still Too Fast

 

He almost threw the Xplorer across his room in frustration. If only  
the notes didn't fall over themselves to get out!

 

He froze. That was it! Don't play all the notes together. Play one  
note at a time. Just one note and hold it. Then play the next.

It was hard. His hands itched to move on. But he kept at it

 

Just

 

 

One

 

 

Note

 

 

At

 

 

A

 

 

Time.

 

Until he dared to play two notes together, slowly. Then five, ten.  
Until he could play a song slowly. His fingers still wanted to fly  
along the strings, but he managed to play slowly. He played every  
slow song he knew. He listened to some of the records the Gears had  
brought him and played them.

But he knew it wasn't enough yet. He need to play in front of an  
audience. So he got a disguise and went out one night, by himself,  
to an open mic night at a small out of the way dive in the nearby  
city. Gave a different name and waited for his chance to try it. He  
was nervous, like he had been when he first auditioned all those  
years ago, when he was a teenager. He went to the men's room and  
almost threw up, splashed water on his face, and said to himself,  
“Yous is Skwisgaar! Yous can dos dis! Yous is a guitar gods!”

 

The MC called his name and he almost didn't get on the stage,  
forgetting he was incognito for a moment. He climbed to the tiny  
stage, sat on the stool, took a deep breathe, closed his eyes, and  
played. He didn't say anything because he was afraid they would know  
him from his voice. He just played, his fingers moving at a  
glacier's speed, at least for him. The music flowed from his  
fingers.

 

When the song was done, he looked out at the crowd. As he had  
played, the women in the audience had moved forward until that was  
all there was in front of the stage. There was silence for a beat as  
the music faded, all the women staring in rapture at the man in the  
light on the stage.

Then they erupted into wild applause! He was use to it, but itseemed better this time, like at the beginning of his career. Like he had earned it. There was no prizes at this little place, save for some free beers. It was a very small place and they only had open mic night in order to get some entertainment that they didn't have to pay for. But the beer tasted better than anything at the 'haus that night. And the women who gathered around him, much to the dismay of their boy friends, looked better than the average groupies at Dethklok shows.

But he went home by himself that night. Driving with a big grin. He  
had done it! There really was nothing he could not do. After all,  
he was Skwisgaar Swisgelf, guitar god of Dethklok.


End file.
